


Bad Day

by chaos_ineffable



Series: Good Omens 30th Anniversary [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has an Anxiety Disorder (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Aziraphale-centric (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Good Omens 30th Anniversary, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_ineffable/pseuds/chaos_ineffable
Summary: Aziraphale is having a terrible, horrible, very bad, not good day. Three customers had gotten away with buying his books, he is out of tea, his wings itch, and Crowley isn’t answering his phone.But the worst of it is he can’t perform any miracles to fix a single one of these problems. The ability is there, of course, but every time he reaches out to snap his fingers or wave his hand, his stomach ties itself into knots and leaves him feeling nauseous.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens 30th Anniversary [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729684
Comments: 3
Kudos: 99





	Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this one is 'Miracle'.

Aziraphale is having a terrible, horrible, very bad, not good day. Three customers had gotten away with buying his books, he is out of tea, his wings itch, and Crowley isn’t answering his phone.

But the worst of it is he can’t perform any miracles to fix a single one of these problems. The ability is there, of course, but every time he reaches out to snap his fingers or wave his hand, his stomach ties itself into knots and leaves him feeling nauseous. 

Currently, he is relaxing in a worn armchair. Or trying to relax. Without a cup of tea to calm his nerves, he is finding it very difficult to properly enjoy his quiet time. With a sigh, he presses his thumb and middle finger together. “You can do this, old chap,” he mumbles to himself irately, “You’ve done this exact miracle millions of times. It will take less than half a second and nobody Up There will even notice a miracle as small as this.” He says the last part without thinking, the words slipping from him out of habit than out of actual concern.

He stiffens and groans. He should have known that old feeling of Gabriel watching his every move wouldn’t just go away. He’s had millennia to build up a paranoia when it comes to his miracle count. That’s not going to disappear mere months after the apocalypse.

He drags a hand over his face, the other still poised in prime snapping position.

If only Crowley were here. That wily serpent always knows just what to say to pull Aziraphale out of his Heaven-induced anxiety. 

Aziraphale glances at his phone. He’s called Crowley five times already, leaving a message on his infernal machine each time. The chances that the demon will answer a sixth call are low but Aziraphale doesn’t have many other options.

He stands in front of the phone, a hand resting on it, and second-guesses himself. Crowley might be sleeping. Or angry with him. Or out of town for a few days. There’s an abundance of reasons why Crowley wouldn’t be answering and most of them leave Aziraphale feeling very foolish for bothering him.

His fingers slip from the phone and a sigh slips from his lips. Best if he leaves Crowley alone for now. He’ll call when he gets Aziraphale’s messages. Instead, he should take a walk. That seems to be the humans’ go-to when they are feeling down. While he’s not human, per se, he’s close enough that it must have a similar affect. That is how corporations work, isn’t it? 

Plus, he can stop by the shops and pick up some tea while he’s out.

Already feeling better, he strides from the bookshop, closing the door firmly behind him, and makes his way to St. James Park.

As soon as he gets there, rain begins to drizzle from the sky. He holds a hand out and watches the droplets land on his skin. Disappointment swells in his chest. He wants to miracle himself an umbrella, miracle his clothes dry, and return to his bookshop, where he can miracle up some tea and finally relax. 

But his stomach is akimbo at the thought of all those pointless miracles and he can’t even bring himself to press his fingers together. He sighs and shuffles back to the bookshop.

It is only when he unlocks the door that he realizes he forgot to buy tea.

He is frustrated and more than a little disappointed with himself when he wanders into the bookshop’s backroom. He knows that no one is watching him now. Knows that he is free to perform however many silly and pointless miracles as he pleases. But there’s a part of his brain that apparently hasn’t gotten the memo yet.

He’s just settling into his armchair when the phone rings. He jumps back to his feet and yanks it to his ear. “Crowley?”

“Hi, angel,” Crowley drawls on the other end and Aziraphale could cry from relief. “Just got your messages. Want me to come over?”

“Oh, if you would, I would appreciate it, my dear,” Aziraphale breathes. Finally, something is going right.

Crowley is there ten minutes later. He proffers a bag full of Aziraphale’s favorite tea and smirks. “Bad day, then?”

Aziraphale takes the bag with a grateful smile and bustles to the kitchen, water already on to boil. “Absolutely terrible. I appear to still be recovering from Gabriel’s constant surveillance and haven’t been able to perform a single miracle all day. It’s been dreadful.”

Crowley lounges on the couch with a grimace. “Sounds it. Couldn’t imagine having to do everything the human way. Not sure how the humans manage it, most of the time.”

When the tea is finished, Aziraphale sits beside Crowley and hands him a steaming cup. “Thank you for this, my dear.”

Crowley waves him off, hiding his blush behind a deep sip of the scalding liquid. “Don’t mention it, angel. Anything else you need? I can pop out and grab you some more snacks if you like.”

Aziraphale sips his tea and hums happily, leaning against Crowley and closing his eyes. “That’s quite alright, dear. I’d like to just sit here with you for a few hours if you’re amenable.”

A lean arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him closer to Crowley’s side. “Fine by me, angel.”

Pressed against his love with a warm cup of tea in hand, Aziraphale is not surprised to find that his terrible, horrible, very bad, not good day is turning into a pretty good day, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


End file.
